


bednbreakfast, serves two

by odoridango



Series: Waiter!AU [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Sexual Content, Waiter!Eren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 10:00:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odoridango/pseuds/odoridango
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU. Jean drops by the bistro Eren works at after class on Wednesdays so they can play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bednbreakfast, serves two

**Author's Note:**

> Also inspired by this fantastic art by fridaynightxylene: http://fridaynightxylene.tumblr.com/post/66176540246/erejean-waiter-au-that-im-not-entirely-ashamed

It’s a game they play. Jean with his early Wednesday classes, ending just in time to catch late, late lunch at the bistro, when not many people are eating. It’s a nice place, neat, monochrome edges, modern and chic enough for business lunches and nights out, but casual enough to have a rowdy Sunday brunch with friends. Adding in the well sized portions and reasonable prices, and the place is an instant hit with the nearby college crowd, many of whom rent apartments in the neighborhoods nearby.

Of course, Jean is one of those students, and so is Eren, clean, composed and put together at work the way he isn’t at home, flashing him his win-win customer-service smile with just a little bit of fang, and Jean could swear that he musses his flyaway brown hair that way on purpose, resists the urge to dig an hand and there and clench, pull, until Eren’s stupid green eyes fly open, and his pretty, pink mouth parts in a moan, low and wrecked, the same way he moans right before he takes in Jean’s cock, taking it to the hilt without any resistance, licking, sucking, like he’s got an irresistible sweet in his hands—

“Welcome,” the bastard purrs, menu in the crook of his arm, and Jean loves him in his work uniform, the clean, white shirt outlining his broad shoulders, following the sleek lines of his body, a wonderful contrast to his tan complexion, and the tapering of his waist, the place where his lower back meets his ass and flairs, arches, is perfection, emphasized by the tie of the waist apron. They’re the same height, but Eren’s a little shit who knows how to work an audience, knows to tilt his head just right so he looks up at Jean through his eyelashes. “If you’ll come this way,” he says, and ruins the moment by giving a big cheesy wink, mouth kicking up into a pure shit-eating grin, and Jean responds in kind, waggling his eyebrows, catching wind of Eren’s muffle chuckles as he turns away, leading Jean to a secluded corner table.

“To start with, would you like anything to drink?” Eren asks, and Jean’s heard all of these questions thousands of times by now, answers just the same. Tap water please. I’ll skip the bread basket. I’ll take the special today. And Jean always takes the special, because while the food is good, he’s here for the challenge, and for dessert, which he always has at home.

Drop the fork, make Eren bend over to retrieve it, brush the inside of his wrist when he hands you a new one to watch him shiver, find those electric eyes wherever they might be in the bistro, and lick the spoon with little kitten licks, because Eren isn’t the only cocksucker in their apartment. Make an elegant display of the cream sauce, find all the excuses to get the waiter over here, splash a little water to get his shirt wet and see-through, ask him for a little extra service, ask him for a little extra sugar, stalk him to the bathroom and tip him with your mouth and your hands, knead his ass as he runs his hands up into your shirt, caressing your hips and teasing your nipples while you tongue-fuck each other, and when you separate, he’s a spit-slick mess, lips red and puffy, and you reel him back in, get him to whine and whimper into your mouth as you stroke his nape, feel his body tremble and work him up before you send him back out, hard and wanting. Pay your bill, go home.

And when Eren comes home, he makes Jean groan too, laughs wild and bright as he bites viciously at neck and collarbones, punishes him with a strong grip at the wrists, pressing in, hot and pulsing, makes Jean come until he can’t feel his toes anymore.

“One day,” Jean tells him at a later date, mouthing at one tan hip, chuckling as Eren sighs softly and shifts, already at half-mast, “You’re going to come home, and you’re going to take everything off except for the apron, and I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to leave the bed for two days. And I’ll come inside you, make you wet and messy and leaking, and while you’re stuck in bed with a sore ass I’ll fuck you again, because you like that, don’t you, babe?” he asks, leering, tracing lines up Eren’s sides and lunging in with a fierce kiss, and they kiss like they fight, sharp and stinging, but when they cuddle they’re small and quiet, soft and sweet. “You like being dirty,” Jean hisses into Eren’s ear as he sinks in, and Eren’s shaky sigh shifts into a filthy groan that shoots straight to his dick, makes him twitch while he’s still seating himself, makes Eren buck his hips until he takes Jean all the way in, spine arching, hair splayed against the bed and flush high on his cheeks.

But Eren chuckles at him, greets him at the door on a Friday afternoon in nothing but his apron, and Jean loses this round, loses with grace and sore hips and all the force of several orgasms, and Eren tells him he’s beautiful, that he’s infuriating, that he drives him crazy in the best ways. And when he wakes up, Jean can’t help but think that in truth, everyone’s a winner, watching Eren wake in stages, rubbing at eyes full of crust, yawning unattractively. With his sleep-clumsy smile, dopey nuzzle and hum of greeting, he reduces Jean to pulp, to just the mush of strawberry jam, sweet and tangy, and Jean presses kisses, small ones, all over his face, until Eren bats him off and they tussle until the covers fall off the bed and they’re laughing, naked in bed on a Saturday morning, warm and comfortable.

“Let’s do brunch,” Jean says, thumping Eren on the shoulder.

“Sure,” his boyfriend says, leering, “If you’re my waiter.”


End file.
